


Snogging other men doesn’t really mean you’re gay

by Fatale (femme)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, this is a repost from <a href="http://fatale.livejournal.com/4515.html">here</a>, when I originally posted it in early 2005. I have not re-read it, because I'm deathly afraid of how terrible it is.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Snogging other men doesn’t really mean you’re gay

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this is a repost from [here](http://fatale.livejournal.com/4515.html), when I originally posted it in early 2005. I have not re-read it, because I'm deathly afraid of how terrible it is.

Snogging other men doesn’t really mean you’re gay  
(Harry/Draco)  
PG-13  
wc: 1869

 

 

 

"So, you think I'm gay?"

Pansy rolled her eyes behind her Modern Witch Magazine. "Draco, darling, you spend more time in front of the mirror than I do," she said in a bored voice. After all, they had this conversation at least once a week, usually more, depending on how flouncy Draco was feeling.

"I'm _well-groomed_."

“If well-groomed means as queer as a disco ball.”

“I resent that.” Draco paused. “What’s a disco ball?”

*

“Harry, have you ever, er, considered that you’re not like other men?” Hermione tried.

Harry was only half listening as he eyed Oliver, who was bent over, demonstrating the proper way to grip a broom to a group of younger boys. “What was that?”

“You might not be--” Hermione trailed off as she followed Harry’s gaze. “Oh forget it. You’re not even listening to me.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Right,” Hermione sighed.

*

“Pink isn’t your colour, Draco.”

Draco’s lip trembled. “I’m a Malfoy. We can wear whatever colours we choose. And it's misty mauve.”

“Except pink. And that's pink.” Pansy held the offending garment in two fingers, as far away from her as possible.

“You can stop being jealous now," he said imperiously. "Jealousy doesn’t look good on you. It’s so last season.”

She huffed and threw fluffy pink jumper at Draco. “Fine. Wear pink. And while you're at it, you might as well date Potter. You two deserve each other.”

“Maybe I will," Draco spat.

“Fine,” Pansy said as she left Draco’s room and slammed the door, then opened it and slammed it again. Just for emphasis.

Draco stopped brushing his hair. “Wait. What?”

*

“So, Potter, a little birdie told me that you’re gay."

“A birdie?”

Draco scowled before remembering it would give him wrinkles. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah. What bird?”

“Pansy.”

“Oh. I thought you meant Fawkes or something.”

Draco took a deep breath. “Why does everything think that bird is gay?”

“He’s very colourful.”

“That means _nothing_.”

“Pink looks good on you, Malfoy," Harry said appraisingly, taking in the pink jumper and black trousers.

“It’s misty mauve,” Draco protested weakly.

*

“Snogging doesn’t make me gay, does it?”

“No, but snogging other men does.”

“I don’t want to be gay, Potter.”

“Right. Neither do I.”

“Right. So this is just a friendly snog then?”

“Yes. Right.”

"Good. There is no gayness in this."

"None at all," Harry said as he moved his hands beneath Draco's jumper.

*

Ron made a face as he wiped his mouth. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Friends snog.” Harry averted his eyes.

“Not these friends, they don’t,” Ron said, gesturing between himself and Harry.

“We could.”

“But we _won’t._ “ Ron looked closer at Harry. “Isn’t that right?” he asked worriedly.

“No more snogging,” Harry promised.

“Good.” Ron relaxed back on his bed, then sat up quickly. “What other friends have you been snogging?”

*

“You know, Hermione, you’d think that if he wanted to go about snogging blokes, I would be at the top of his list.”

Hermione stopped writing to shoot Ron and irritated look. “I thought you were at the top of the list.”

“Apparently not.” He gesticulated wildly. “He’s been sneaking off with Malfoy.”

“Oh, that.”

“What? You knew about it?”

“Oh, Ron, everyone knew about it,” she said as she ducked flying arms.

“Except me.” He let his head drop into his arms. “Oh, how many people knew and thought Harry and I were together?” he moaned.

“Certainly not me,” Hermione was quick to say.

Ron’s head shot up. “You?” he squeaked.

“I’ve got to go do that thing that needs doing,” Hermione said as she stood and scooped up her books, looking hunted.

*

“You’ve been snogging Harry,” Ron hissed in Draco's ear in the empty corridor after Potions.

“But only as friends,” Draco replied with a smirk.

“Shhhhhhh!” Ron waved his arms and looked around to make sure they were still alone. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“Right. That.” Draco thought for a moment. “Not really.”

“Well you should. Going about corrupting certain boys who lived.”

“Very subtle, you are.” Draco’s smirk widened. “Why, Weasley, are you jealous?

Ron’s cheeks reddened. “Not a chance,” he said backing away. He hit the wall and reddened some more. “And your hair looks terrible,” he added for spite.

Draco’s smile and books hit the floor at the same time as he furiously tried to smooth his hair down. Damn Pansy to hell. He should have known better than to wear pashmina out of season.

*

“Ron knows about us and had a bit of a chat with me,” Draco said simply.

“How would he find out?” Harry hedged, looking guilty.

Draco shrugged and looked pointedly him. “Perhaps it was your clever Gryffindor-ish subterfuge.”

“I thought he already sort of knew.”

Draco scooted closer to Harry. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “No friendly snogging tonight, I take it?”

“No.”

Another martyred sigh. “You really need to work things out with Weasley.”

*

“Pansy! Come quick!”

Pansy nearly broke her neck trying to run up the stairs in stilettos. Merlin, the price she paid for high fashion. “What?” She asked, between laboured gasps for air.

“I’m gay,” Draco said wonderingly, twisting in front of the mirror and striking poses at odd moments.

“And?” Pansy prompted.

Draco frowned. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Darling,” she said tiredly, “Everyone knew-”

“I will not have my thunder stolen!” He said irritatedly. “You,” he pointed at Pansy, “Stop stealing my thunder.”

Pansy slumped against the door.

"I need a symbol of my gayness," Draco said decisively. "Like Potter's scar, only less crude and more stylish."

"What did you have in mind?" Pansy asked, curious despite herself.

"I shall have to think on it more." He turned to face her. "This is serious business. It could define the rest of my life. Everything will change, you know."

"What will change?"

Draco flailed. "My life, my actions, how I _live_." He sniffed and turned back to the mirror. "No go on back to your room," he said dismissively. "I need to fix my hair."

*

"Draco, what's that you're wearing?" Blaise asked from the couch.

"It is my outer sign of gayness," Draco announced proudly.

"It looks like a fedora."

"It isn't," he insisted. "It is my gay symbol."

A nearby Slytherin girl gave Blaise a warning look. They all knew not to push Draco when he was in one of his tempers. No one would ever forget the incident with the knife, the house elf, and the apple tart.

Blaise didn't comment. Imbecile. Draco's lip curled as he flounced out of the common room.

*

“Pansy, we’ll out the whole school together!”

“Darling, you do know that most people aren’t gay, don’t you?”

He shook his head sadly. Poor delusional Pansy. She still harboured the belief that the world was full of heterosexual people. “Pansy, dear, let uncle Draco tell you a story.” He ignored her sigh. “There are two types of people in the world: Those that are gay and those that don’t realize it yet.”

“What type of category do I fit into?”

Draco bit his lip. “I’m not sure. Have you ever heard of a fag hag?”

Pansy’s back was ramrod straight as she said, “That’s it, Draco. You've taken this _too_ far.”

Suddenly, Draco was the picture of innocence--all rainbows and kittens and sunshine. Pansy was sure that if she tried really hard, she could even see a shining halo resting atop his blond head. Bastard. How did he _do_ that?

He interrupted her stunned pause. “So will you help me?”

“Help you with what?”

“Out Potter.”

“I thought you wanted to out the whole school.”

Draco shrugged elegantly. “That can wait. For now, I’ll settle for Potter.”

*

"Harry Potter. every. person. here. knows. you. are. gay. so. you. might. as. well. admit. it.” Pansy read off from the small scrap of paper cupped in her palm.

"Who thinks I'm gay?"

She pointedly did not look at the heavy velvet curtains covering the window, which had one highly polished black dress shoe sticking out from beneath it. She made a gesture with her hand and dropped the paper which Harry hadn’t seemed to have noticed yet. He really was thick. The curtains twitched in what Pansy felt sure was annoyance. "Look, no one likes to be told they're gay,” she improvised. “As a matter of fact, when I told Draco, he went into a shrieking fit of denial."

An enraged squeak emanated from behind the curtains.

Pansy coughed. "He went into a masculine tirade of rage, I meant," she amended.

The curtains made a pleased sound.

*

"The Yule Ball is coming up.”

“Oh, what do you have planned?”

Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Something the world may not be ready for.”

*

“Did Malfoy just _shimmy_?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

“I think he did.”

“Did you find that as oddly alluring as I did?”

“No,” Ron said flatly.

“Oh, okay.” Harry took another drink.

*

“Ah, but I am the gayest of the gays.” Draco repeated his little shimmy. “And the prettiest, too.”

“Yes you are, honey,” Pansy agreed with an indulgent smile and a laugh. “And why don’t you go over there and invite one of those sexually repressed boys to come and dance with you,” Pansy said, gesturing over at Harry and Ron who were both hunched over their boring, manly drinks that they had made sure were served in manly mugs.

Draco smiled brightly. “Maybe I’ll invite both.” He stopped shimmying momentarily. "Unless you want to keep dancing with me."

"I'll find someone else."

"I just don't want to lead you on." He paused. "Because I am gay, you know," he added seriously.

"I gathered."

*

"Hello, Potter," Draco said as he slid behind Harry. He leaned over to see what he was drinking and frowned at the manly frosted mug. He shook his head sadly. "Fancy snogging a gay bloke?" he offered as casually as he could with his hat slipping down over his eyes.

"Is that a fedora?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," Draco said through gritted teeth. "Some call it a fedora. I call it a sign of my overwhelming gayness."

Harry blinked owlishly. "But you're not gay."

"Au contraire, my speccy friend. I am gayer than the gayest of the gays." Draco made a funny little fluttering motion with his hands that made Harry go cross-eyed.

"Malfoy, you're not. Because-"

"Because why?"

"Because, er, we snog-"

"Right. Snogging other blokes makes me _straight_."

Harry gurgled.

"Right, then." Draco smiled winningly. "So, I've decided that you're gay, too."

"You can't just _decide_ -"

"Oh, yes, I can and I've decided that you're gay. We can snog a lot if that makes you feel better."

"I don't know," Harry said, befuddled into submission, which was pretty much how Draco liked him.

"Stop arguing and dance with me." He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him up from his chair while Ron looked on, horrified and slightly tipsy. "Let's show all these straight blokes how good it is to be gay."

"Does this mean I have to wear a fedora, too?" Harry asked despairingly.


End file.
